Honor as an Outlaw
by CarawynO
Summary: AU: Faramir finds himself cast in a Robin Hood like role when Aragorn is captured in Pelargir and never arrives at the battle of the Pelennor Fields. Boromir lives, and rode the Paths of the Dead with Aragorn. Denethor also lives. This will be rather fluffy in tone, but there will be more action (and characters) to come in future chapters.
1. It Begins

March 20, 2019

Sleep had proven elusive. Though it had been a long day, with much of it mercifully spent in the fresh air for a change, Faramir's mind was still wheeling as he lay on his narrow bed.

He was glad that he had taken the Warden's advice and sought out Merry in the afternoon. The halfling had proven to be excellent company through the evening, for he was quite skilled at telling stories. It had been easy to picture the moments that Merry had described, especially those involving Boromir. It was clear that Boromir had rather adopted Merry and Pippin as honorary younger brothers, training them and protecting them as he had so often done for Faramir.

With a groan Faramir at last admitted defeat, and pushed aside the blankets to sit up on the edge of his bed. Much though he wished he could return to the gardens, or at least the hallway, he knew that the healers would be… disappointed… if they found him outside of his chamber. So he resorted to pacing the small room, his bare feet making no noise that could betray his activity to anyone passing by in the hallway.

Boromir was alive! Or at least he had been a fortnight earlier, when Merry had ridden away from Helm's Deep with Theoden. Frodo's news had been far older, and the end to the conflict on Amon Hen was not known, so to hear that Boromir had survived and gone to the aid of their allies in Rohan was welcome indeed. But there had been no word of his fate, or that of Aragorn, since they had ridden the Paths of the Dead. Faramir could only hope that the prophecy that the heir of Isildur would be permitted to pass were true, and that they might both still arrive in the city.

As he paced in the small confines of his room he tried to keep his thoughts focused on his brother, on how they might learn of his fate and bring him home, but in truth...

In truth he found himself looking out to the dark gardens outside his window and thinking of a pair of grey eyes that had just a hint of blue to them. Eyes so empty of any hope that the thought of them made his own chest ache in sympathy. Of long hair the color of ripe barley touched by the morning sun…

Catching his thoughts wandering again, he ran a hand through his hair and chuckled softly at himself, thinking of how Boromir would laugh to see him so distracted by a pretty girl.

He had met the lady only this morning, had talked with her for only a few minutes! Why could he not shake her from his thoughts? Surely finding news of what happened to his brother should be his sole focus? Especially since learning of Boromir would also mean finding the King.

The King! Never had he thought that he would live to see a king over Gondor. Boromir had been more vocal in his belief that there would never again be a king, but if he was honest with himself Faramir had to admit that he had also spoken of the king's return purely by rote and not out of any real belief it would happen.

But now… Now there was reason to hope again, despite the defeat on the fields of Pelennor! Surely the return of the king in this dark hour was a sign from the Valar that all men should stay strong in their resistance of the Dark One, even if his victory seemed complete. The people must know that their King had been found, that he was...

Since he was alone, closed away from any that might see by the stone of the walls and the wood of the door, he allowed himself to slump down onto his bed again. While his father had taken oaths to rule in the name of the king, and had ensured that he carefully referenced the missing king whenever he issued a decree, Faramir knew all too well that in reality Denethor considered himself to be Gondor's rightful ruler. And his mind had been so twisted of late...

There was little reason to expect the Steward to support any resistance in the name of the king. Indeed, the last time they had spoken Denethor intended to do the unthinkable; submit to the Dark One. He claimed that by doing so he would protect the people from the utter destruction more conflict would inevitable bring on them all, and that as long as he was able to maintain some power he would be able to continue to shelter them from the harshest of the Dark One's malice.

Faramir rubbed his hands across his face, and then slowly straightened his back as a new resolve filled him.

He had given his life to fighting for his country, and he would not see her fall now, or her people give in to despair. He would never give in to the Dark One while he had strength to resist, and he would find some way to ensure that others had reason to hold to hope as well. Many of his rangers would be of the same mind, he knew, and he believed he could count on most of them to be willing to break their oaths to the steward if the steward was willing to break his oaths to the rightful king.

There would be much to plan, much to organize and much to do, but he felt a peace fill him as his decision was made. Someone had to stand up for the people, and if his father would not then it was up to him.

His mind calmer, he lay down and stretched out on the narrow bed, feeling sleep approaching even as he pulled the blankets over himself once more. A new thought came to him as he settled his head on his pillow; he would need all the allies he could find, and if the White Lady had been willing to fight the Witch King she clearly had no love for the Dark One. If nothing else, he now had a reason to speak with her again, to see if she and her brother might be willing to stand with him.

He fell asleep with her face on his mind and a smile on his lips.

* * *

AN: Many huge thanks to Sian22 for her support and for her skills as a beta! And thanks also to the ladies of the Garden of Ithilien for their thoughts and encouragement.


	2. Working Together

March 25, 3019

The afternoon sun was weak, but was still a welcome reminder that Spring could not be held back forever.

Faramir and Éowyn sat together on a stone bench in the gardens of the Houses of Healing. She was wrapped in the beautiful blue mantle that Faramir had gifted her while he wore his tattered and stained ranger's cloak. They were so close their shoulders touched, each seeking warmth and comfort from the other, and the sight brought little smiles from the others who braved the garden's chill.

Though none would be so bold as to ask, many were curious about what they could be discussing.

The rangers, who saw how relaxed their captain was with the lady, noted how attentively he watched her when she spoke, wondered if perhaps the man who had carried books of poetry in his pocket while on patrol had at last found his own romance. They imagined him reciting verses and speaking to her with an ease they could only envy.

The healers saw two of their patients showing every sign of making a full recovery together. Some saw them through the eyes of youthful hope, and imagined they made plans for a wondrous future together.

The servants were relieved that spending time with Faramir seemed to sooth the lady's temper, easing their job of attending her. They hoped that he wooed her, and would soon take her away to his own halls, and may she never suffer hurt again that would require her to return!

None suspected that they discussed treason.

"You do not wish to continue to operate in Ithilien, then?"

"It would be my preference, but we cannot risk trying to use any of the secret refuges that my… that the Steward knows of. Those he will order searched as soon as he knows that I have left the city." Faramir sighed. "And I fear the orcs will cut down all the trees that they can long before we could have much of an effect on the Dark One's plans. The thought of them denuding the hills, and fouling the streams..."

Éowyn looked over at him, and put her hand on his forearm for a moment. "My brother told me of what had been done to the forests around Isengard. I am sorry to think of the lands that you so prize suffering the same fate." He reached over and put his hand lightly over hers. After a moment she pulled away, and tucked her hand back into the warm folds of the cloak, and he crossed his arms across his chest.

Silence fell again until she cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "I... have heard of caves in the foothills of the White Mountains, sheltered by the Firien Woods. Do you think they could be of use? I could ask among the riders to see if any know more of them…"

His head tilted a little towards her as he considered before replying. "I have also heard of them, but I do not know of any extensive survey of their locations." After a moment he sighed and shook his head. "The Firien Woods would also be too far away from the roads to the Black Gate, save the West Road."

For a moment silence again fell between them as they considered. Finally, Éowyn spoke again. "The muster rode on a long abandoned road that ran along a valley between the mountains and the Druadan Forest. The shadow covered the sky and we were riding hard, but I remember seeing darker spaces in the walls of that valley, which looked like they could be entrances to the mines that the Wild Men told my uncle of." She looked over at him for a moment. "I believe I could describe the entrance to the road, if you have men that could be sent to scout it…"

He turned his head and met her eyes, and a slow smile lit his face. "Truly you are a wonder."

A touch of color came to her cheeks as she returned the smile, but then she looked quickly away. "I would not say that, my lord. I only wish to do what I can to fight the Dark One."

He sobered again, and nodded as he stretched his legs out in front of the bench, crossing them at the ankle, settling more comfortably against the back of the bench.

Silence fell between them again for a time, but then their conversation resumed, and for a while they spoke of lighter things before returning to their planning.

While Éowyn had never spent time living or fighting in forests herself, she had grown up surrounded by soldiers, and knew enough of their ways to offer other suggestions on how the Rohirrim might face this situation. While they often needed to be altered to suit men on foot among trees rather than on horseback on the plains, it was enough to prompt him in new ways of thinking.

Each evening he returned to his rooms and made notes for himself of the ideas they had discussed during the day, encoded in a way only he and his lieutenants could read. And then he lay in his bed and tried not to think of her or of how much more he admired her with each passing day spent talking in the garden.

Each morning she woke to wonder why it was that she had not dreamed of Aragorn, the man she insisted she loved, but of Faramir.

* * *

AN: Many thanks again to Sian22 for her skills as a beta, and to the ladies of the Garden of Ithilien for their comments and suggestions.

As a note of humor, this AU was inspired by the recent Robin Hood movie, but this chapter was actually written before it came out. I'd already decided to use the mines before that movie showed them. :)


	3. Homecoming

March 27, 3019

The day had turned chill, and the sky hung low with grey clouds. Even with their warm cloaks, Faramir and Éowyn had decided to spend the afternoon indoors instead of walking to what had become their usual bench in the gardens. Since his chamber was the larger, and had a table with two chairs, they had retired there after the mid day meal. Merry joined them after he finished one more helping of mushroom stew in the dining hall, and soon their laughter rang through the stone hallways, brightening the day of those occupying the adjoining rooms.

Suddenly the air was rent with a mighty blast from a great horn, though it seemed to still be some distance away. Faramir's head snapped to the window, and he surged to his feet, face alight with more joy than Éowyn had ever seen there before. Merry also stood, scattering the cushions he had piled on his chair, and asked "Isn't that…"

Faramir grinned like a boy as he answered Merry's question. "It is!" He started to turn towards the door and his eyes fell on Éowyn as she sat at the table, looking somewhat confused. A hint of a blush colored his cheeks as he gave a small laugh. "Your pardon, Éowyn ! Of course you would not know that sound." He took her hand and lifted it to press a light kiss to her fingers. "That is the call of the horn my brother bears. It has been carried by the Steward's heir for many generations, and Boromir was ever fond of sounding it when he was within sight of the city."

A smile lit her face as well. "Your brother! I remember the horn, but never heard its call. This is wonderful news!" She squeezed his hand lightly and stood to join him and Merry. "Shall we go to the gates and greet him?"

He started to reply, but then his face fell as he sighed with frustration. "I doubt that the healers would be permit us to pass the doors of this House, my lady."

Her own smile turned into a scowl as she muttered under her breath. From the tone, he could only assume it was a Rohirric curse and the thought made the corner of his mouth twitch towards a grin. He schooled his expression quickly, though, before she could notice his amusement.

Merry piped up as he rearranged the cushions he had been sitting on. "Surely he will come here to see you as soon as he is able?"

Faramir stood for another moment, looking out the window, longing clear on his face, but finally he turned and offered Merry a smile. "Yes, you are right, Merry. He will come when he can, without the need to fight the healers."

He returned to his seat on the edge of the bed once more, but found his intention was no longer focused on the conversation. His thoughts had turned instead to his brother, and he was lost in anticipation of seeing him again.

It was not until the following morning that Boromir was able to come to the Houses. One of the assistants directed him towards the gardens, and Boromir found himself chuckling under his breath as he traveled the halls. He should have known that his brother would escape to the one spot of green in this city of white stone.

When he stepped through the doorway that lead to the garden he was immediately greeted by the men who are sitting on the covered porch. He returned the greeting, giving a small salute along with a few words of greeting, but his eyes were already scanning for his brother.

Noticing this, one of the men pointed to the walls, and Boromir grinned to see his brother at last, high on the wall as he looked out over the city and Pelennor far below. The fact that he is not alone makes Boromir curious. With mumbled thanks and a quick nod to the man who had guided him, he stepped from the porch and walked along the gravel path towards the stairs.

As fate would have it, Faramir turned and glanced toward the House at that moment, and his wide grin was visible even at a distance. Boromir grinned back, and lifted a hand in greeting as he started walking towards the stairs, and watched his brother turn to his companion and say a few words. They both then turned to watch his approach, and he was surprised to see that the companion was a woman. The grin turned into a soft chuckle. It seemed that his little brother had at last discovered the fairer sex!

But as he drew closer the wind pushed back the hood of the woman's cloak, revealing hair the color of gold, and Boromir grew puzzled. Surely that… But she… Her hair was distinctive; it could be no other. But how could Éowyn of Rohan be here, in Minas Tirith's Houses of Healing? Clearly there were many stories he had yet to hear!

As Boromir drew closer, Faramir hurried down the stairs. When they met, Boromir pulled his brother into a fierce embrace, and it was a long moment before either paid any attention to anything around them.

At last Boromir pulled back, but still gripped Faramir tightly by the shoulder. "By the Valar, it is good to see you, Faramir!" His knew he was grinning like a fool, but did not care.

Faramir's expression was much the same. "As it is to see you, Boromir. I had almost given up hope that you would find your way home." Then he laughed merrily, and crossed his arms across his chest. "The battle was days ago now! What took you so long to get here?"

Casting his eyes to the heavens, Boromir laughed again. "Ten days I have been traveling up the river from Pelargir, on foot, keeping out of site of the enemy, and he asks why it took so long…"

Éowyn joined in their laughter this time, and on hearing it, Boromir turned to her. Offering a small salute, he smiled. "Well met, Lady Éowyn . I did not know that you were in the city as well as Merry. "

She replied softly, "I am glad to see you again, Lord Boromir, alive and well. But surely it is not such a surprise that I am here, when you knew that I had wished to ride with your company." She stopped, and gave a small smile that was tinged with a hint of bitterness. "I found another way." She glanced towards Faramir, only a quick look, but Boromir did not miss it. Her smile grew wider as she brought her attention back to the older brother. "But that is not a story for today, a day of joyous reunion. If you will excuse me, my lords, I think I will retire for some rest after our walk. Or perhaps see if I can help Ioreth in some way."

She gave them a small curtsy, made slightly awkward by the splint that hampered her right arm. Boromir had not seen that she was wounded, as her arm had been hidden by the cloak, and he was reminded again that there were many stories he had yet to hear.

Faramir returned her smile and started to speak, but it was Boromir spoke over him. "I did not intend to interrupt your time in the gardens and the sun, my lady. If you care to join us, you would be most welcome..."

With a small shake of her head she smiled more fully at him. "No, my lord, you are not interrupting any plans. I thank you for your invitation, but I know Faramir has longed for this day, and while he will not say it so plainly, I am certain he would prefer to have time with you alone for now." She looked to Faramir fully then, a challenge in her expression but a bright smile on her lips, as though she dared him to contradict her. Boromir also looked to his brother, intrigued by the conversation, and curious what the reply would be.

Faramir started to protest, but then, to Boromir's amazement, he simply grinned. "I should say no, and encourage you to join us, my lady. But in truth you are correct. I fear I would be very poor company for you. And my brother… Well, he is prone to tell stories that would not be fit for a lady's ears." He ducked Boromir's half-hearted attempt to cuff his shoulder, laughing, then turned back to Éowyn . "Will you join us for the evening meal?"

Laughing at their antics, she nodded. "I would be honored." She curtseyed again, a little more smoothly this time, "Until this evening then, my lords."

Both men gave her a small bow, and with a final smile for them both she turned and walked back towards the houses. Once she had taken a stride or two, Boromir turned his attention back to his brother, and quickly smothered the grin that wanted to form. The look on Faramir's face was full of longing, almost of hunger, as he watched her walk away.

With a quiet sigh, one Boromir was sure he was not intended to hear, Faramir tore his gaze from watching Éowyn walk away, and brought his attention back to his brother. "You know that Father has ordered Uncle Imrahil and our cousins back to Dol Amroth while… inviting… Lothiriel to remain in Minas Tirith?" When Boromir nodded Faramir continued. "I believe he intends to do the same with our allies from the Riddermark; send Eomer back, ostensibly to rule, while keeping his sister here to ensure his compliance."

Boromir could not help the quick snort of laughter that escaped, and he grinned when Faramir narrowed his eyes. "I cannot help but think that you might not mind that arrangement so very much."

Faramir's expression darkened. "You think that I would be happy to see a highborn lady, sister to the king of a country we have long called our ally, treated as a hostage? As little more than a prisoner?"

Boromir's grin grew into a low chuckle. "Nay, I did not say that," he said, noting Faramir's blink of surprise "I know you better than that. Of course you would not take joy in seeing anyone held against their will. But I do think that you would be happy to have one particular person here for longer than might otherwise happen." He reached out and clapped his hand on his brother's healthy shoulder, trying to assume an appropriately stern countenance. "Have you gone and fallen in love while I was away, little brother?"

A jolt of emotions ran through Faramir's heart, and Boromir laughed with delight at his look of shock.

With an angry shrug Faramir freed himself from his brother's hand , took a few steps away, running his own hands through his hair. "Love? No. No, of course not! I've not... I..." He stopped, sighed, then shook his head, as if trying to negate the thought with force. "No," he replied firmly, turning to face Boromir again. "It has been only days since we met! How could I have fallen in love in so short a time?"

Boromir dropped down onto one of the stone benches that was near them, one arm draped carelessly across the back and legs stretched out in front of him, grinning widely while he watched Faramir's discomfort and agitation. It was rare indeed to see him so ineloquent and tongue tied, and it served to confirm what Boromir was coming to believe; his brother had lost his heart to the lady but had not yet admitted it. Not even to himself. "I note that you have not denied that you would not mind having Lady Éowyn remain here, where you can continue to woo her."

"I'm not wo….." Faramir stopped and blinked for a long moment before at last giving a small, helpless laugh. "You are correct. I cannot deny it."

Boromir's bark of laughter echoed off the stone walls about them and carried across the gardens. "Alright, then, perhaps you have not fallen in love. Yet. Perhaps you have merely… tripped?"

Faramir gave a strangled snort of laughter, and his expression was such a mix of embarrassment and hope and nerves that Boromir knew that he was right. Smiling wanly, Faramir at last came to slump down on the other end of the bench with a defeated groan. "It matters little whether I have tripped or fallen, for she has already given her heart to another. One that I have little hope of competing with."

Boromir tilted his head and raised his brows, a gesture he had long used to ask Faramir to explain himself.

"Merry has told me of what he saw of her with Aragorn."

"Ah." Boromir's expression sobered, and he fell silent for a moment before asking "May I offer you my observations of what occurred between them?"

"Do I have a choice?" Faramir scoffed lightly,

Boromir leaned forward and cuffed Faramir's shoulder lightly. "No, for it is my duty as your older and wiser brother to offer my counsel when I see you making an idiot of yourself."

With the most long suffering of sighs, Faramir settled back into his corner of the bench more comfortably, and crossed his arms across his chest. "I ask your pardon, oh great one. Pray enlighten me!"

It was some time before Boromir replied, and when he did his voice and expression were more earnest. "I have no doubt that Merry told you the truth as he perceived it. But he is still deemed to be barely more than a child in the eyes of his own people, so he has had little experience in matters of the heart. And he has even less experience with big people, as he calls us, so may not have fully understood what he saw."

He fell silent again for a moment, then gave a small shrug. "I will not deny that it was clear that the lady was… drawn to Aragorn. Before we rode on the Paths of the Dead she begged him to let her join the company, and it was grievous to see her pain and despair that night." He looked over at his brother. "But there was little time for her to come to truly know him, Faramir. We spent only hours in Edoras before we rode to the Hornburg, and we were in Dunharrow for only one night before riding with the dawn."

He paused for a moment before continuing in a lower voice. "I cannot say that I know what she might feel in her heart, but I cannot see how she could have truly come to love him, as a man, rather than the image of the king of Gondor that he is to be."

Faramir groaned dejectedly, and allowed his head to fall back against the stone of the. "And that is an image I cannot hope to eclipse."

Boromir nodded. "No, you cannot. But I have no doubt that she has spent more time with you than she ever did with him, and so has come to know you more truly. Even in just the few minutes she spent with us it was clear to me that she considers you a friend. And she smiled. Laughed, even! That is something that I never saw while we were in the Riddermark."

Faramir gave a half smile of his own before sobering again, looking out across the well ordered beds of the garden. "I am her friend, yes." Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he rubbed his hands over his face. "But I am not a king."

"And what has that to do with anything?"

Faramir's brows rose incredulously as he dropped his hands again and looked at his brother.

Boromir gave a small sound of exasperation as it became clear that his brother still did not understand his worth. "She is already a princess to her people, so she has no need of rank from a husband." His lips quirked as Faramir gave a small start at that word. "And you know as well as I that her people have less concern for such things than ours." He reached out and put a hand on his brother's shoulder once more, setting jesting aside as he did. "You are a good man, brother, the best that I know, and you have much to offer any woman. Are you truly going to give up on winning her before you have even tried? Give up on a chance to have the type of love you've always wanted merely because of a title?"

For a long moment they were both silent, but at last Faramir straightened up, and squared his shoulders as he nodded. "You are right, I should not give up so easily."

Boromir laughed heartily. "Good man!" He settled back into the corner of the bench again, grinning wickedly. "Shall I help you plan your…. campaign?"

With a theatrical groan Faramir cast his eyes to the heavens. "Oh Valar, help me!"

* * *

Many thanks to Sian22 for her encouragement and skills as a beta!


	4. The Plotting Thickens

March 28, 3019

The hour was very late. Or perhaps it was very early? Either way, Faramir had lost count of the number of times the kitchen maid had come to refill their drinks. Eventually she had simply left the pitcher, and returned to refill it when needed, rather than their tankards.

Boromir was slumped in his chair, as was his wont, booted feet propped up on the corner of the table while they talked. Every now and then he passed his hand over his eyes, as though willing them to stay focused, and his participation in the planning had waned through the hours until it had become non-existent. Faramir found his own thinking was becoming muddled as the hour and the ale took their toll, and his answers slowing down. Only Éomer appeared completely unaffected, though he had drunk more than either of them. He still pored over the maps and documents that covered the table, brow furrowed in concentration.

Finally, with a nod, he spoke. "Aye, I believe this could work." He looked up at Faramir. "Of course, my men will have orders to avoid hurting any of yours, as much as it is possible, and to aid them if they can. But I cannot order them not to draw their swords." Straightening to his full height he gave a small roll of neck and shoulders grown stiff with leaning over the hurriedly drawn up plans. "You understand; they must to all appearances look as if they are trying to fight off the bandits who would steal the weregild the Steward has demanded of us."

Faramir nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but found himself yawning instead, chuckling with it. He turned serious again as he looked at his co-conspirator. "Of course! My father's men must believe that your Riders did their best to fill their role as guards." He gave a grin. "Have them leave their supply bags there, as if they wanted to lighten their load to travel more quickly. When they return to claim the bags they will find the food stuffs have been replaced with the gold, to be distributed among your people. I am sure they will also have the thanks of my men for the grain and meat!"

After one last glance across the maps, Éomer looked up, and offered his hand to Faramir with a grin of anticipation. "Then we are in agreement, man of Gondor."

"Excellent." Faramir returned the grin, gasped the young king's forearm in a warrior's salute, and the plans were sealed.

They had just turned to start rolling up the maps and other documents when the door to the room opened quietly. Faramir called over his shoulder "Thank you, Kira, but we are finishing for the night and do not need more ale." He looked over to Éomer for confirmation and received a shrug in reply, as if the younger man would not mind more but could do without.

"It was no trouble at all, Faramir."

Two heads, one raven haired and one gold, snapped up and looked at the door in almost perfect unison at the voice. Even Boromir dropped his boots to the floor, and straightened a little in his chair. It was not Kira standing there, but Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, lips curved in a smile that grew into a soft laugh at their reaction. Entering the room fully, she put the pitcher on a side table, then crossed to where the men stood as she explained, "I could not sleep, so went to the kitchens for something to drink, and instead found poor Kira near to stumbling in her weariness." She reached for the map nearest to her, and quickly rolled it up in exactly as Faramir had taught her years before as she laughed. "So I brought the ale for her and sent her to her bed."

Faramir grew concerned, and reached out to carefully take the rolled map from her. "Is everything alright, Lothiriel?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes, I am fine, Faramir, truly. I just have… things on my mind that kept me from sleep." Her gaze moved past his shoulder for a long moment before it dropped back to the table as she reached for another map with a small, pleased smile.

Faramir followed her line of sight, and found the king staring at his cousin a bit too long for propriety before he recovered himself and looked at the table again.

Boromir also saw the exchange, and lifted one brow in surprise and amusement. It seemed Faramir was not the only one distracted by a maiden fair!

Bringing his own attention back to Lothiriel, Faramir gently took the map from her to drop it back on the table. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness in bringing us the ale, little flower, but it is not safe for you to be here. You should not be seen wandering alone at night, even within the citadel. Not in these times." He slipped an arm about her shoulders and gently walked her towards the door again. "And you should especially not be seen with us tonight."

She sighed as they stopped in the doorway. "You are right, of course you are, but… I hate being caged this way!"

"Boromir and I will do all we can to end it as soon as possible, I have given you my word."

"I know, coz, and I thank you for it." She reached up and gave his cheek a quick kiss, but looked past him again as she said "Good night, then."

All three men chorused their goodnights in reply, then Faramir closed the door behind her, slowly and softly, before turning to face the suddenly silent room.

One dark eyebrow lifted almost to the roof as a ruddy faced Éomer returned to the task of clearing the table. "Éomer…"

Éomer looked over to Faramir quickly, but never quite met his eyes. "Hmmm?"

"That map is inside out."

Looking down at the roll in his hands, Éomer swore under his breath, then hastily rolled the map properly and stacked it with the others. Then he cleared his throat and spoke lightly. "Well, now that we have ale for it, shall we drink to the success of the plans we have outlined tonight?"

With a slow shake of his head Faramir answered, "Not before an explanation is given, my lord."

Éomer's expression was carefully neutral when he looked over at Faramir, and his voice was mild. "Explanation? What more is there to be explained? I thought the plans were quite thorough…"

"Not of the plans." Faramir crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his head a little to one side, making Boromir grin. He knew that stance, and settled back in his chair to observe as his brother continued. "Our cousin, who is barely twenty years old, says that she has things on her mind, and gave her smiles to you rather than to her kin. Yet you do not think there is anything to explain?"

Éomer gave a small shrug. "Who am I to try to explain why a woman does what she does?"

Faramir moved quickly, and gripped Éomer's upper arm tightly. " _That_ woman is my family, and not someone to flirt with or treat casually. She is too young to know the ways of men, and you would do well to remember that. My lord."

With a sharp shrug, Éomer jerked his arm out of Faramir's grasp. "I have done nothing to deserve your censure. Sir. We have merely talked once or twice, nothing more."

Faramir's brow rose. "Talked?"

"Aye, talked." When Faramir's other brow rose into an expression of clear disbelief, Éomer dipped his head in a small concession. "Well, we also danced a few times at the celebrations, but surely…"

"And now you encourage her with smiles, and looks... I must repeat, my lord, that you would do well to stay away from her from now on."

Éomer's eyes narrowed, and he took a small but slightly menacing step towards Faramir. "And what of you, my lord?" He now crossed his arms as Faramir had done earlier. "What of the stories I have heard of you?"

Now it was Faramir's turn to grow flushed. "What stories are those?"

Éomer gave a fierce smile. "That you have been seen with my sister while in the Houses."

Boromir choked on the ale he had just sipped, and wiped his chin with his sleeve as he leaned forward to put the tankard down.

The other men ignored him. "I have had reports that the Steward's younger son has often been seen in her company these past weeks. In the gardens, in the dining hall, in the library..."

Faramir gave a small scoff, and turned to the table in his turn, reaching for the map he had taken from Lothiriel moments before. "You saw how crowded the Houses were, and how small. It would have been difficult to avoid encountering her in those places, common areas as they are."

With a grin, Boromir settled back in his chair once more, and watched the other men with open amusement. This was far better entertainment than he had expected this night!

With another step forward, Éomer pressed his point. "And the mantle you gave to her?"

"It was a cold morning, and she did not have an adequate cloak with her. Should I have allowed her to shiver when I could easily have something suitable fetched for her?"

Éomer's expression became incredulous. "Rather than setting tongues wagging by defying your own people's delicate sense of propriety? Rather than risking her reputation? Yes!" He gave a derisive snort. "They already think of her as some wild shieldmaiden from the north. Did you have to give them a reason to question her virtue as well?"

Faramir bristled, and for a few heartbeats the men glared at one another. Boromir could almost see the tension pouring out of them as they confronted one another, neither man ready to back down. But then, eventually, Faramir gave a heavy sigh. "I had not thought of that. I see her as a lady fair and brave, one that a man would be honored to spend time with. But… You are right that I had not thought of the full ramifications." He met the younger man's eyes steadily. "I give you my word, Éomer, my intention was only to see to her comfort."

Éomer stood silent for another long moment before softening enough to reply. "I can believe that. Everyone that I have spoken to sings your praises, and swear you are nothing if not honorable."

Faramir lifted his brows again. "You have made inquiries?" He gave a half laugh. "Was this before or after you were… talking... with my cousin?"

As he reached up with one hand to rub the back of his neck, Éomer's face grew flushed once more. "Before."

Boromir reached for his tankard, and hid his grin by taking a quick drink. When they were younger he would have had his hands in Éomer's tunic by now, forcefully supporting his family's honor, but it seemed his little brother had learned to defend himself quite well. Still, this was a meeting of great import, and should not be derailed before weightier issues were settled, so he intervened. "Can we all agree that it is no easy thing to see that the girl you grew up with, and protected, is becoming a woman that attracts other men?"

Faramir coughed. Eomer spluttered. Both looked at the other, and realized it was true, but neither wanted to be the first to back own..

Finally, Faramir's wry smile found a way to reassert itself. "I believe I can agree with that."

Éomer nodded stiffly, and they both returned to the task of clearing the table before Faramir spoke again. "Éomer… I hope that you can believe that I have not intentionally hidden my… attraction to your sister from you? I have not spoken to her of it, nor would I do so without your knowledge…"

Boromir cast his eyes to the ceiling; his brother and his sense of propriety… It could cost him the lady, in this instance.

With a snort, Éomer started to stack the pieces parchment scattered about the table. "You speak as if you need my permission to woo her."

"I am _not…_ " But then Farmir stopped, his hand midair. "I do not need to have your permission?"

Éomer looked over at him with a droll expression that made Boromir chuckle softly. "Do you think that she would listen if I were to forbid her from seeing you?"

With a shake of his head, Faramir laughed and looked over at Boromir first, then Éomer. "No, I suppose she would not. If she chose to see me..."

Éomer grinned, tapping the edges of the parchment he had stacked against the table to straighten them. "I think there is little doubt of that!" Reaching for the next map he asked, far to casually, "Would I need to have permission to court Lothiriel, then? That is… should I… if she…"

"Yes. You would need to speak to her father before you take any steps towards courting her, or you would risk his wrath." Faramir grin turned more than a little wicked. "And that of her brothers as well, if they feel you have treated her dishonorably."

The color left Éomer's face. "Bema…"

Yawning once more, Boromir stood and made his way to the side table that held the ale with the slow caution of one who's already had a little too much to drink.

Faramir chuckled good naturedly. "I believe my uncle holds you in high regard, Éomer. I have no doubt he would give you his blessing." Then his expression turned grim. "My father, on the other hand, might block her from courting any man simply to keep her under his thumb."

Éomer's eyes grew dark as anger sprang to life in their depths, "All the more reason for us to drink to the success of our plans, then!" When both brothers looked at him in surprise, he explained. "No man of the Mark could abide the thought of a woman's fate being controlled in such a way. Especially by a man other than her own father or brothers." He gave a wry grin. "If I can show myself to be a dutiful and compliant puppet, appearing to obey all the conditions set for me, perhaps the Steward will sanction the match, and she can be freed from this grand prison. That is... if she wishes to..."

Faramir looked over at Eomer with a carefully bland expression. "You've only talked with her a time or two, but already you are thinking of marriage?"

Éomer flushed to his hairline. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, making Faramir chuckle.

By now Boromir had filled the other's tankards, and stepped between them. "Gentlemen, while I realize this is a conversation of great import to you both, as it involves loved ones and family and beautiful women, may I suggest that we table it for another time? Some might already be suspicious that we have been here behind a closed door for so long, and that does not bode well for any of us." He held out a filled tankard first to Éomer, and then to Faramir. "Come, let us drink to our plans, as the horse lord so rightly suggested, and say goodnight!"

When Faramir and Éomer continued to look at one another, Boromir was reminded of nothing so much as strange dogs trying to establish which is the alpha. He sighed deeply, drawing Faramir's attention.

"An excellent suggestion, brother." Faramir took the offered tankard then looked at Éomer expectantly. "My lord?"

With a softer sigh, Éomer took his drink as well, and all three reached out to knock the tankards together before drinking deep. Boromir was first to lower his after one drought, but the other two… It took only a moment to see that their eyes were locked yet again, and they were engaging in an unspoken contest to see who could drain their tankards first.

Boromor simply shook his head and put his tankard on the table by the pitcher, muttering "The pair of you, each as bad as the other. Be glad I do not knock your heads together!" Shaking his head even as he chuckled, he stepped into the hallway and called back "Goodnight, my lords" as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

As always,a huge thanks to Sian22 for her amazing skills as a beta, and to the ladies of the garden or their support and suggestions!


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